


I hate myself for losing you

by Teakany



Series: canada song fics [6]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Addiction, Child Abandonment, Drunkenness, Father/Son Incest, Gen, Guilt, Mental Instability, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-24 15:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3774028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teakany/pseuds/Teakany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tiny child Matthieu blames himself for his Papa sending him away to live with the eyebrow man and the loud child.</p><p>I hate myself for losing you- Kelly Clarkson</p><p>chapter 2- Addicted -Kelly clarkson</p><p>Matthew is grown now... he's addicted to the attention he gets from Arthur... he wants to leave but not before he gets just one more hit...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> yes, I apparently like being mean to characters... god I'm awful. 
> 
> -words between these are translations into english of what was said in french-
> 
> yes, I did use google translate. :/

Large violet fluttered open. the light was pouring over his face, he groaned why did Papa leave the curtain open? he rubbed his face and sat up to look over at his Papa… but the bed was empty. the small face whipped around looking at the room… it was empty, plain… tiny child eyebrows furrowed in confusion. then his face dropped. oh right… he lived here now… 

He hopped out of bed and grabbed his white bear kumajiro hugging it close. he sighed and looked around. Papa had given him away… he had said he was a.. a… what was the word? either way… he said he cost too much to keep. It was his fault Papa was gone. 

he thumped onto his butt on the floor and looked at his bear “Je dois vraiment pas être bon si Papa voulait se débarrasser de moi…” -I really must not be any good if Papa wanted to get rid of me- he said sadly. 

he recognized his name being called, but the rest of the words following were unfamiliar, Matthieu walked to the bathroom next door and climbed on the tiny foot stool in front of the sink. he washed his hands and looked at his reflection. Tears sprung to his eyes, what was so wrong? was it his eyes? his hair? was his french not good enough? he finished and hopped down dragging tiny feet down the hall

breakfast was on the table… oh god what is that? is that food? the two other people at the table look at him expectantly and babbled in what papa called.. oh… what was it.. he was forgetting.. he shook his head and it came to him “Je ne parle pas anglais” -I don’t know English-. this made the loud boy his size look confused, but it made the eyebrow man mad. he was picked up and carried from the table and into a library. a book was placed in front of him full of pictures and strange words. eyebrow man looked at him and said i very poorly articulated french “vous apprendre l’anglais” -you will learn English- it was stern. a demand. he then turned and left

Matthieu missed Papa… in the book there was a picture of a little girl. a scowl set on his face. Papa had traded him for another child. a little girl with long brown hair and tanned skin. what made her so much more special? was it because he was a boy? was his hair not long enough? he couldn’t hate anyone… but thinking of his Papa treating that little girl with the same love he had treated him with… new tears flowed. was he happier with her?

It had been three weeks. Matthieu could speak broken English but not really enough for a conversation between ‘good morning, I’m good. I’m hungry’… he was half starved because of the food. he was lonely, he had no one to talk to, his new ‘brother’ was much more rowdy and loud then he was use to… Did Papa know he was sending him to such a horrid place? how was he going to survive this? no food, no conversation, none of the love he had been so use to from Papa...

he wished he could be better for Papa… maybe if he was better Papa wouldn’t have given him away. Matthieu hated it here. he hated the eyebrow man named Arthur, He hated the loud boy Alfred… but most of all he hated himself for losing Papa… It was his fault…


	2. Addicted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matthew is addicted to the affection he receives from Arthur.. he knows how bad it is for him... he know's it's not meant for him.. but he can't live without it... just one more time?
> 
> Addicted- Kelly clarkson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a second chapter to a song fic? what?! Well i started looking at other Kelly Clarkson songs, this one popped up and instantly Matthew and Arthur's messed up relationship popped into my head o.o
> 
> Basically he's going to have really bad abandonment and affection issues after blaming himself for all that... Arthur would never have been affectionate enough to reassure him, and when Alfred left him as well...

It’s like he’s a drug.. or a demon I can’t get past… I’m stuck here.. 

I look up at my Caretakers sleeping form. he was drunk again last night, I caved to his advances again… and he called out the wrong brothers name again. 

It doesn’t matter how often I try and escape back to my land… he’s always there. he’s all I can see… the only company I seek out… he’s everything to me, and he’s sucking all the life from me. If I’m being honest, I know I let him have the power… deep down leaving him terrifies me.

I get out of the bed and gather my clothing walking out of his room and down the hall to my own, I need fresh clothing. 

He wakes an hour later, I had breakfast ready we sit and eat, have tea and pleasant comfortable conversation. this is what sucks me in. when he talks to me and it’s me he sees. not my brother, not Francis’s son. Matthew, his son. 

except, I’m not even really me, I can’t move without him, nothing done in my land is without his say so.. I’m not aloud to think for myself without his okay… It’s like I’m not really anyone, just him…

we finish breakfast and go about our daily tasks. I know I should give this up… I should leave him. but It’s like I can’t do anything without thoughts of him clouding my thoughts. 

Later that night he;s drunk again. I close my eyes and let him trail his hands under my shirt, I let his mouth find mine and i return the sloppy, heated kiss. He needs this… He murmurs the wrong name again. it should upset me, I should push him away… but I don’t…

 

I need this contact… I need it just once more… just one more time, one more morning, I’ll tell him tomorrow… I can handle this… I can quit him. He’s just a drug I’m addicted too.. I just need a fix… I move with him towards the bed and lay back as he climbs on top unbuttoning my shirt. just one more hit, I promise I can handle it… just a little more to get me through…


End file.
